


Guiltless

by stimmedtavi



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay crisis, Happy Ending, M/M, Panic Attacks, Religious Crisis, Reymas - Freeform, Reynauld POV, dismas is kind but also grumpy, its okay tho they are ok, mlm, religion tw, religious, reynauld is gay and losing his mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29473623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stimmedtavi/pseuds/stimmedtavi
Summary: “Confess your sins, my child” Speaks the Priest. I exhale and begin, going down the usual list of sins I’ve committed. Stealing, Greed and other simple things like that smoothly come out of my mouth, voice never wavering. I’m used to this now, but I always fear that in the spur of the moment I’ll let it slip. The guilt overtakes me sometimes, late in the night. It drives me up the wall, nearly as much as he does.
Relationships: Dismas/Reynauld (Darkest Dungeon)
Kudos: 9





	Guiltless

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” I begin, my knees already hurting from being on them. The soft cushion that used to sit at the bottom of the confession booth has been transformed into an understuffed bag. My breath falls heavy on the divider between me and the Priest. A hush falls and I can feel the guilt crawl deeper in me. It’s always the same venient sins I commit, plus the refusal of another sin. I’m just not ready to admit it.   
“Confess your sins, my child” Speaks the Priest. I exhale and begin, going down the usual list of sins I’ve committed. Stealing, Greed and other simple things like that smoothly come out of my mouth, voice never wavering. I’m used to this now, but I always fear that in the spur of the moment I’ll let it slip. The guilt overtakes me sometimes, late in the night. It drives me up the wall, nearly as much as he does. 

~~~

“I’m not nearly as drunk as I should be,” Dismas says to me, leaning on my shoulder. He’s up in my motel room again. I always let him in, it’s so wrong. I don’t even know why he’s so attached to me, I assumed it was because he was drunk at first, but now I’m not so sure. Dismas turns his face completely into my shoulder now, groaning about how he’s going to hate himself in the morning for this. “Ah fuck it, I’ll just drink again anyways,” he laughs. A pitiful smile grimaces my face and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. He doesn’t want to be pitied, I know that. But I can’t help my own feelings, and I also can’t help him. Sometimes it fills me with shame, but everything in the grand scheme of things happens because it is meant to. My heart hurts knowing he cannot face his issues head on, and that instead of taking someone with him to help him he instead chooses the bottle. Some things are out of my control though, no matter how much I don’t want to accept it.   
“I’m headed back to my room,” he decides aloud. I hum, looking at the wall in front of me. I don’t mind when he goes, it’s what is right. Dismas stands now, a little wobbly. I pretend not to care that he’s leaving. My mind tells me that we’re just friends, there have just been a few nights where we’ve needed someone to lean on. Someone to hold. I’m really out of it tonight, usually confession does this to me. On nights where I confess usually he avoids me since I’m like this. Spitting up my shame turns me into a shell of a man, I guess that says a lot about me. Dismas’ hand holds the side of my face and I look up at him. He’s got this stupid half smile on his face, he’s too drunk to even think straight.   
“What?” I ask, my tone blunt. The smile fades from his face, turning back to his usual grouchy look. Dismas’ hand dropped back to his side, the energy in the room dampening. I feel bad for putting such a downer on his night but he knows how I feel about the mistakes we make. He knows my guilt but refuses to understand it.

“You need to look alive.” Dismas says gruffly before he begins to walk away. The guilt in my chest rises as I call for him, “Wait,” I call for him again. I hear him stop. I stand up and walk up to him, his face looks less than impressed. I sigh as he looks up at me. Dismas never looks like he cares, a total wall usually. Put some alcohol in his system and sometimes he’ll tell you something, flash you a smile, but if he’s sober he’s not going to play nice. I adore him anyways. It’s wrong, it’s so fucked up and this isn’t in God’s plan for me. I’m going off book and one day I’ll be punished for this but I can barely care. Something about him has me all caught up, even though at first he was giving me nothing. I’m scared that my heart is disobeying what I’ve been taught all my life, disgusted with myself. But even as guilt weighs heavy in my chest I still feel my heart yearning for him. I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t understand it. And what humans don’t understand we fear, I fear my heart's betrayal. 

“Rey what’s going on?” He asks me. I’ve stood here frozen again. “I don’t know,” I mumble. I feel tears in my eyes and I don’t want to cry in front of him, I want to be strong. Dismas’ hand reaches out and interlocks with mine. Why does he care so much? It would be easier not to feel this way if he didn’t care. My eyes lose focus again and it seems like I’m not here. I’m so fucked up, I’m so wrong for feeling this way. His hand squeezes mine, trying to wake me up. I make eye contact with him, his eyes jarring me even more because I can see in them he cares. He cares too much and so do I. We’re both so screwed up. I used to be a Crusader, someone who followed the word of God intensely, someone who loved his wife and child. I used to be someone who was looked up to immensely. But now who am I? I am a thief and I am full of greed, though still known as a Crusader that very title is what destroyed me. I am now tired and weary, someone who occasionally holds who should be just a friend through the night. That just friend isn’t someone I’ve just held though. I look in Dismas eyes again, and he’s waiting. I’m supposed to say something more I think but I don’t want to think right now, I want to silence the guilt but the only thing that silences my guilt is him. A guilty pleasure I guess. So in a foolish moment I add onto my guilt, just for a second of peace, and I kiss him. It’s awkward, this wasn’t something I expected to do tonight, but he tastes like some sort of alcohol and I know that it’ll make my head go numb until at least tomorrow.   
“Ah,” He says after I pull away from him. Dismas is usually the one to make the first move, I try to avoid it as much as possible. I nod awkwardly. “Sorry,” I tell him, but honestly I can’t tell if I’m apologizing to him or myself.

~

“Rey! Oh thank Heaven you’re home safe,” she says, her arms warm around me. I can hear the children outside, struggling to get the water out of the old pump in the yard. The house smells good, the pot hanging over the fire must have some sort of stew in it. She pulls away from me, and I see her face looking up at me. A gentle smile graces her features as she pulls me toward the pot, explaining that she’s been waiting for me, cooking for me. I wrap my arm around her again and kiss her head, thanking her for thinking of me in advance. My wife is always so thoughtful, I think to myself. I’m so blessed to have this home and her, I thank God that He gave me all this. Sometimes I wonder if I truly deserve this, but then I’m reminded that this is why I leave so often. To fight for His word and to sing His gospel as it should be sung. The thought of fighting brings me back to the cold world outside of my land and I begin to lose it. I grip my wife’s hands in mine and she looks up at me, worries trapped in her eyes. But as I grip her hands I see her fading from my vision, along with everything else around me. I think I’m blacking out and for a second I do, the feeling of falling occurring as my eyes shut closed. As I open my eyes again though, I’m no longer in the safety of my house. No, I’m back to what some would call a battlefield. I’m so shocked that I’m back here that at first I don’t notice the warm blood dripping on my hand, where the armor doesn’t reach. I look to where my sword is buried in the man I was fighting. My sword is hilt deep with his blood coming from his mouth and onto my hand, where I grip the sword. I hear the cries of others as they fall in battle, and I remember my wife, my kids. All these men won’t come home, but I don't even care. I should feel ashamed. Blood spills onto my hand again as the man coughs up more. I’ve stabbed him in the heart during a night ambush. I’ve taken away his life and he couldn’t even defend himself, yet I feel like I’m the one who was stabbed in the heart. These acts I’ve committed, they’ve changed me. I cannot go home now, I’m not the same person my wife married, I’m not the Reynauld she loves so dearly. I feel gross, guilty and yet nonetheless guiltless. Though I know this is what I was made to do I feel bad. I don’t want to leave the only place I’ve ever felt safe but I don’t want my child to experience the gruff violence I have my whole life. Absence is better than suffering, I know she’ll protect him. My heart hurts knowing how she’ll cry but this will hurt less than being married to a stranger. Thoughts of her flash through my mind like I’m about to die and my heart aches in my chest. I pull my sword out of the man in front of me, his already keeled over body crumpling at my feet and I feel myself get nauseous at the sight. I look away but instead of having any type of comfort coming from not looking at the crime I’ve committed, the houses of civilians around me begin to spin. I reach up to touch my face, an attempt to ground myself but the blood on my hand smells like iron and I only become more overwhelmed. I stand here, fighting for a God that has turned me into a monster. My eyes cross again and my vision is blotting again, and I am falling. 

I wake with a start. Pricks and pins all over my back as I sit straight up in bed, the thin sheet not keeping my freezing body warm. My chest heaves and I feel my heart ache, another nightmare. For a second I think I smell her perfume, but no I’m here alone. I’m alone here, I need to stop trusting. My mind is being driven up the wall now, this is what I was speaking of. I think of her, but my thoughts bounce back to him and I feel dirty all over again. I cover my face with my own hands and then run them through my hair, I’m crazy. I feel like I’m out of my own mind. I try not to blame my faith, I try to be grateful for my life but it’s so hard when He dictates every action I take. I will never find happiness in a world that is controlled by someone so angry, yet I respect him for troubling me because I take some sort of comfort in the fact that perhaps I’ll be allowed happiness once again. I rest my arms on my knees now, then my head on my forearms. I know this is punishment for when I left her and my child, because I thought that leaving was better than anything. I could live the rest of my life like this, being punished for doing what I thought was the right thing when I should have just fought through what God gave me. That’s why I fear what Dismas and I have. This could be another test of who I am, He may be watching me. I wish I could love him, the feelings I have for him are near uncontrollable. I wish I could shut down my heart, I’ve experienced true love already. I don’t need to trick myself into thinking I can love again, no matter how hard I can fall for someone. The fear of my brain breaking again, the thought of leaving someone I love again… It’s too much for me. I don’t want to waste his time. The blood on my hands has stained them forever, I am tainted by that. No one deserves to be with someone like me, I feel bad everytime Dismas kisses me, guilty that he seems to be drawn to someone as broken up as me. I am just as unlovable as much as I can’t love. He deserves better than a monster, something so much better.

~  
The next time I wake up I hear the Church bell ringing. I’m so sick of that noise, and how much it controls me. I used to make it to Church every Sunday, listen to the Priest praise the word of God but now I’d rather stay in bed, covering my ears. I don’t know if I resent God or I’m too guilty to enter his house. It may be both, but I gave up on understanding things like that long ago. There is no point in understanding things that will never be explained. I want change but the thought of leaving the faith that turned me into who I am is terrifying. I’m just tired, so tired, of waiting for change, praying for something to happen. I dream of the life I once had as if it’s only brought up to tease me with the thought of happiness again. I roll over in my sheets, trying not to think about such things so early. 

“You aren’t at Church,” Dismas mentions offhandedly to me. I nod in response, not feeling very talkative. He takes another drink from the bottle he’s carrying. I find myself staring at him, while he walks beside me. I need to go to the Blacksmith to get my sword repaired, I can usually ignore small flaws but this notch in the blade has been getting on my nerves recently. I prefer my weapons to look in tip top shape. Dismas isn’t actually coming with me to the Blacksmith, he tells me that he’s going somewhere else in town. He seems different today, more distracted than usual I suppose. “It’s a nice day out,” I say dryly, feeling a bit guilty. I've been so distant this morning. Dull company isn’t any company at all and I certainly haven’t been very sharp. Dismas stare bores into me, though I’m not looking at him I can feel his piercing gaze. He knows something is wrong, usually I’m much brighter in the mornings but I can’t bring myself to be today. Usually nightmares like that don’t throw me off nearly as much but I haven’t had one that bad in awhile, I’m not used to the sinking feeling in my chest. At this point I should be, but nothing hurts as much as seeing her face. I miss her at times, I won’t let myself linger on the memories for too long but the time I spent with her was the only time that had any worth. To me she was everything, but I didn’t want to break her heart. I didn’t want to look in her eyes. How cowardly is that? To put your heart and soul into something only to leave it without a goodbye. I wonder what kind of man that makes me, I wonder what she thinks of me now. 

“Hello!? Rey!” Dismas says, waving a gloved hand in front of my face. “I have to go this way now. Are you going to be alright by yourself?” He asks me. I nod, still not fully here and he grimaces. I know he can sense my tenseness and it’s annoying the hell out of me. I just need to collect my thoughts, that’s really it. I’ll talk when I’m ready.   
“Are you going to be alright by yourself?” I ask back playfully, hoping it’ll get him off my ass. He takes the bait thankfully and looks up at me, smiling. “You know me don’t you? I’m an ace. I’ll take care of any situation that comes my way.” Dismas replies, his normal cocky tone kicking out the concerned one. I half smile at him and he looks in the direction he needs to turn in.   
“I guess I’ll be off then,” he says, clicking his tongue and going in the opposite direction. I watch him walk off before continuing on my way to the Blacksmiths. I think I’m in too deep.

~~~

My suspicions of being in too deep are only confirmed when I feel my heart lunge in my chest when I hear a knock at my door later that night. Back at the motel now, sword now fixed, I’ve decided on taking a restful night. My body is achy now, I need to rest if I wish to continue down the path I’ve chosen. I groan as I get off my bedding to open the door, though my heart is jumping like a young boy in my chest. The difference between the way I feel and the way I ache is too much, I’m so conflicted. Trapped in a war between my beliefs and the truth. I am in pain, fearing the way I love and feeling betrayed by my own holy hands. The war roars within me as I open the door and Dismas is there, a smile gracing my foolish face as I greet him. Inviting him in and lying to my Father as I pray silently He may turn a blind eye to this sin. Dismas looks tired as usual, but there’s a special glow about him tonight. Normally he comes into my room and lays down on my bedding, asking me to lay with him and talk. It is easier that way, no thoughts of what we are outside this room, just the two of us in the privacy of this room. God can see me, but when I’m here I avoid his gaze, I hide from Him. Dismas sits on the edge of the bed, looking at me expectantly. I sit myself beside him curiously, wondering what has him so eager tonight.  
“I bought you something,” He says. And though his bandana covers up his mouth currently I can see how his eyes move, telling me he’s smiling. My eyebrows raise in surprise. We’ve never gotten each other gifts before, I suddenly feel guilty I don’t have anything for him. I begin to apologize to him, explaining that I don’t have anything for him but he brushes my words off. As he ignores me he reaches into his coat and brings out a small book, handing it to me.

“It’s a Bible, I thought you might need a new one.” He tells me.

My heart stops its messy pattern. I stop hearing it in the back of my ears, its angry pounding silenced as I hold the small book in my hands. It’s smaller than my version of the bible, with a soft leather cover. ‘Easier to take with you,’ I can hear Dismas say in the background, but I can barely hear him. The war, the conflict between my heart and beliefs is at a height now, asking me what I will choose. To me this is a choice, I can accept this gift and continue my life as it were, or I could break the rules I’ve been following. My thumb rubs over the soft, leather cover of the book and I feel tears in my eyes, my chest constricting. I can’t breathe now, the overwhelming feeling of having the war within me brought to life overcoming me. Blood rushes through my ears and I put my head down, resting it on my hands that still clutch the book. Dismas calls my name but he sounds like he’s miles away now, I am lost within my issues. As I feel myself drowning in panic, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I know it’s Dismas, in my heart I know it’s him but I fear for just a second that it’s God. I feel like I’m dying, my chest is so tight. I can’t hear anything around me as I fight the urge to burn the book in my hand. He calls for me again, saying my name so softly and caringly I feel like I could throw up. I don’t know what I’m thinking, the choice is clear, but my roots prevent me from believing so. Achiness once again overcomes my body as I grip the Bible tighter. No matter how tight I hold this thing, nothing will come in return. I have believed in something so blindly that it is hard to see now, it’s hard to even want to see. So now I sit here, suffocating under a lifetime worth of guilt and wondering. I catch my breath finally, trying to slow it down as Dismas rubs his hand in circles on my back, trying to offer any comfort he can. The conflict in me will not die until I make a choice, so I will choose him. I’m not choosing him because I want to rebel against my beliefs, or because I’m angry with the life I was given. I’m choosing him because he’s here for me now, not at the end of my days. I’d rather spend my life happy and live nothing after death, rather than living as a monster with eternal life. I lift my head up finally, Dismas’ hand falling to behind me. 

“What just happened?” He asks, the same concern in his voice from this morning. Another cry wracks my body, hopefully the last, as I rest my head onto his shoulder. “I’ll be just fine, I’m sorry. I could explain it but I don’t know if now is the time.” I tell Dismas. He simply hums, not wanting to push it most likely. His hand comes back up to rub my back again, comforting me still. “Was it the Bible?” He asks quietly. I feel guilty, this is the first thing he’s given to me and I just broke down over it. Dismas reaches over me and takes it from my hands, looking at it carefully. I quietly assure him that it wasn’t because he gave me something but rather my recent questioning of God. Again, Dismas hums. I don’t know if he understands but he seems to figure out that I’d rather not look at it right now and tucks it back into his jacket. I pick my head up off of his shoulder, turning toward his face. He looks at me and I reach up to tug his bandana down so I can see his face.  
“Rey,” He says to me, seemingly uncertain of what I’m going to do. I let my hand rest on his face, ghosts of guilt still in my bones escaping me as I admire him freely. I repeat his name back to him, smiling as he appears to be relieved I’m more myself. I feel relieved and joyous as I sit in this room with him. Though our lives are still uncertain I at least don’t have to feel guilty for being who I am. I will still struggle with letting go of my roots but in this moment, in celebration of my true new beginning, I kiss him. Guiltlessly.


End file.
